The Color of Her Lips

Chapter One

Ariana

What am I going to do now? I am a strong woman, but am I strong enough to deal with this?

Everyone in this church is crying and sobbing: my aunts, my uncles, my cousins, my little sister Selene, and people I don't even remember.

I'm the only one in here whose cheeks aren't wet. I'm also the first one who should be crying, but I'm not.

I loved my parents, they were wonderful, but there's no way I'm letting all these people see my damn tears.

Selene circles my waist with her arms and sobs, "Ari..."

I look down at her. Her eyes are swollen, her face is all red. "Shh, you're making too much noise, Sally."

"Girls, silent please," the priest says, probably referring to us.

I bend my head down as an apology.

After another fifteen minutes, the funeral ends. Unknown people and my relatives approach me to convey their condolences. I give each of them a weak smile and thank them.

When I'm about to get in the car next to my sister, I feel someone touch my shoulder lightly.

I stop and turn around only to see a tall, dark-haired and brown-haired man. "Hello, Mr. DeAngelis," I tell him politely, and lift my chin up.

He takes my hand and kisses my knuckles. "I wanted to convey my condolences, Miss Quinn," he says, and looks straight into my eyes.

"Thank you." My voice comes out steady.

Then he sees my sister sitting in the car. "Miss Selene, I'm so sorry for your loss, things will get better," he tells her. She sniffles and tries so smile.

"Goodbye," DeAngelis takes a step back, then leaves, walking like a model.

When I get into the car, next to Sally, she has calmed down a little. "How did you not cry?" she asks, her voice weak.

"People don't get the chance to see me crying. If I cry, I will be alone," I tell her.

"I know, I know you, but...it's our mom and dad..."

"They wouldn't want us to be sad because of them, all they wanted for us was to make us happy."

Sally wipes her eyes and goes silent for a while. Then she says, "Who was that man?"

"Which one? There were plenty."

"The last one, the one who kissed you hands."

"Oh. Michael Leonardo DeAngelis," I answer.

"Yeah, cool name, I bet he's half Italian. But I mean, who is he?"

Sally is growing up, her questions are different from two years ago. A seventeen-year-old girl who's trying to fit in this world.

"He owns the second largest business of the country, he owns it alone."

"Alone?" she asks.